


Feasibility Study

by mandilorian



Series: Campaign Solutions [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, fluff and not much else, it is very sappy, puppy, think of this as a vermont maple tree, with a brief appearance from Jehan and Eponine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 17:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30092592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandilorian/pseuds/mandilorian
Summary: A day in the life of Enjolras and Grantaire.It has been two years since Enjolras became the governor of Vermont. The reelection campaign is in full swing. Tensions are high and work is demanding, but they have each other, (and a dog!) and that's enough.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Series: Campaign Solutions [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2214213
Comments: 14
Kudos: 25





	Feasibility Study

**Author's Note:**

> A soft epilogue to Campaign Problems. Should still work as a standalone!

_6:00 a.m._

The soft alarm woke Enjolras immediately. He had always been a light sleeper and since he usually had to be up before Grantaire, a dawn chorus alarm clock it was.

Grantaire, predictably, didn’t even stir. It was only six in the morning, so he could probably sleep peacefully for the next few hours come hell or high water. Enjolras let his eyes droop closed for a few seconds, extending his arms loop around Grantaire’s waist and enjoying the soft, sleep man in his arms. Grantaire instinctively curled up closer. His own hands gripped Enjolras’ arms and he rested his back more firmly against Enjolras’ chest.

This was awful.

Over two years together and a throwaway gesture of simple affection still did funny things to Enjolras’ chest and stomach, probably his brain as well, now that he thought about it. What else could explain the way he felt like he was invincible, holding an entire universe in his arms?

Reality came crashing back by the form of their ninety-pound rescue mutt - Libby - whose ears twitched when she heard Enjolras’ alarm and her tail was now thudding against the floor from her bed at the foot of theirs. This placement alone was a concession since Grantaire had wanted the dog to share their bed but there was absolutely no way Enjolras would sacrifice half the square footage and their sex life for a dog the size of a fridge. Enjolras dropped one last kiss on Grantaire’s messy hair and got up, sticking his pillow into Grantaire’s arms instead. The man was like a limpet in his sleep and he was forever clinging on to Enjolras. It would have been flattering had Grantaire not regularly spent the whole night sleeping soundly while snuggling Enjolras’ pillow whenever Enjolras was late from work.

Libby trotted happily behind him when he finished putting on a hoodie and sweatpants. Maybe Grantaire was right, this was too damn early.

He yawned and made coffee while wrestling an overexcited Libby into her harness. Her hair was getting a little long and shaggy. Grantaire loved it when she looked like a dog on a house paint commercial and Enjolras suspected he felt some kind of kinship when he and their dog matched. He himself had long retired his long hair since he had started working, first as an annoying concession to society’s norms and then persevered after he found out that he sort of enjoyed how low maintenance his hair became.

The same could not be said for Libby, who was now happily jumping around in a puddle of last night’s rain. Grantaire was going to kill him for this.

Enjolras was distracted by his emails on the walk, even though Combeferre insisted that he should use his dog walking time to meditate and enjoy the calm that never came with his Twitter app, but Enjolras was a busy man and Libby spent at least five minutes on each plant pot within the three-mile radius, what was he supposed to do?

Make sure she didn’t get into a puddle, maybe? A voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Grantaire chimed in.

_7: 15 a.m._

Enjolras fed Libby and got back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He pressed his lips to Grantaire’s forehead and nuzzled his neck.

“Morning, babe. You have to get up now,” he said, nudging Grantaire.

Grantaire only grunted and turned over, hiding his face in a pillow and went right back to sleep. Enjolras often envied his uncanny ability to sleep through everything short of an apocalypse. Noises had never bothered Grantaire and thus Enjolras was straddled with taking Libby out whenever she got restless in the middle of the night.

Enjolras threw himself on top of the Grantaire blanket burrito and wiggled. “Come on, R, we have a big day ahead.”

Grantaire somehow became even more comfortable even with the weight of Enjolras on him. He started snoring softly and Enjolras debated smothering him with the pillow to see if the lack of oxygen would wake him up. Joly probably wouldn’t approve and Jehan would hex him if he killed Grantaire.

Besides, Enjolras probably loved this man way too much to contemplate living without him.

It was time to bring out the big guns.

Resolute, Enjolras marched to the bedroom door, threw it open, and whistled.

Libby shot into the room so fast Enjolras had to duck to avoid being crushed into the carpet. She launched herself right from the door to the bed, bouncing up and down on top of Grantaire.

‘What the fuck?! ENJOLRAS! Get her out!”

“Hey, this is on you. Should have woken up when I asked nicely,” Enjolras replied, barely hiding his smirk. Grantaire gave up on trying to sleep and started wrestling with Libby instead.

“Why is she all muddy? She’s ruining the sheets.” Grantaire asked, but he had managed to calm Libby down into a little spoon position and his eyes were drooping shut again. Sensing danger, Enjolras walked back to the bed and tried to pull him out from a frankly very comfortable set up.

“Oh no, R, you need to get up, come on. It’s the last leg of the campaign and you promised to come to the art center with me,” he wheedled.

Grantaire opened one eye. “Cuddle us? Just five more minutes please?”

Most people thought that Enjolras was the stern one in their relationship. Grantaire had no qualms about PDA or loudly proclaiming his love for Enjolras, but they both knew the feelings were mutual. Enjolras, to be completely honest, had been infatuated with Grantaire from day one, and he actually couldn’t remember an instance where he could deny Grantaire anything.

Grantaire didn’t seem to realize this, otherwise, he would surely abuse this knowledge to an outrageous degree.

“Alright, but five minutes, okay? I am setting an alarm for it,” Enjolras conceded, getting back into the bed and wrapping his arms around both Grantaire and Libby. Grantaire made a contented noise and turned around to kiss Enjolras’ jaw.

To his credit, he only hit the snooze button twice.

_8:30 a.m._

“Jehan, are you sure you got this?” Grantaire asked for the third time when they were already at the door. Jehan rolled their eyes so hard Enjolras was worried it was a seizure.

“You do realize that I processed your paperwork at the pound when you picked her up, right?” Jehan said sternly, but the intended effect was not exactly achieved because Libby was on their lap like an oversized weighted blanket. Only Jehan’s flaming red hair and eyebrows could be seen through the amount of fluff on the couch.

Grantaire would not stop motherhenning. “We have the list of her allergies on the fridge, but you remember, right? No eggs, yeast, peas, potatoes--”

“Oh my fucking God, I wrote that list down for you! Seriously, stop stalling. you are going to be late. Less than a month ‘til election day now. I mean I am pretty sure you got this, but just suck it up anyway.”

Enjolras thanked them and dragged Grantaire out of the house. It had been nearly two years since Enjolras was elected the governor of Vermont and fifteen months since he met Grantaire. They had agreed that Grantaire wouldn’t be involved in his re-election campaign as a staff because of the obvious conflict of interest, but Jehan and Feuilly, his partners in the PR firm, were still working for Enjolras’ campaign.

Grantaire was strictly Enjolras’ partner in another sense now.

“Alright, I am ready,” Grantaire said after gulping down the coffee Enjolras put in a thermos. “The mural won’t even know what hit it. I am thinking _Liberty Leading the People_ but with your face instead? The exposed chest will be very tastefully done, I promise.”

Enjolras was pretty sure Grantaire was joking, but he was only about eighty per cent sure so he had to ask. “You wish. We are supposed to work on it together, so you can’t reasonably expect me to be any help with that. Let’s just do a cartoon of Libby that says good boys respect women? The one you drew for the pond?”

They were on their way to the community center that just acquired a nearby building as an arts and craft center. The small structure will house both gallery and studio spaces. It was Grantaire’s idea to do a mural on the side of the building and Combeferre suggested making it a community project. They hired students from the local art college to do the main part, focusing on Vermont’s history and community, but the smaller walls are for anyone from kindergarteners to senior citizens who are interested. Enjolras’ whole team (plus Grantaire) had already put in their hours to help prime the surface last week.

It was one of his campaign’s promises and one of which Grantaire was most passionate. They both wanted to make sure people could have some freedom to pursue creative hobbies without much cost. The center was small but brightly lit with windows and dedicated staff. Grantaire, Jehan, and Feuilly all signed up to teach a few evening classes each week.

A few of the local press were coming to cover the event, this was a necessary evil of running a campaign and Grantaire fidgeted a bit more the closer they got to the venue. The onslaught of tabloid stories from two years ago had left him wary. Enjolras reached over, lacing their fingers together.

“It’s gonna be fine. I told them strictly no interviews. They are just covering the opening ceremony and the event, yeah? They won’t even try to speak to you.”

Grantaire rubbed his temple and nodded. “I know, I know. I just get nervous because the election date is so close. I don’t wanna put my foot in my mouth and get another ‘Governor’s partner thinks politicians should try pot’ headline and cost you an election.”

Enjolras had to laugh at that. “Technically, you didn’t do anything wrong. If anyone needed mellowing out around here those right-wing assholes definitely do. God forbid anyone tries to have an actual policy discussion with them.”

“I mean we know that, but I still need to learn to keep my mouth shut occasionally.”

“Occasionally?”

“Please, you’ll get bored if I’m all meek and quiet,” Grantaire said lightly, but there was a note of uncertainty in his voice.

“Impossible,” Enjolras replied. “Did you know I occasionally watch you sleep like a creep? You were fun to look at even when you literally do nothing but drool.”

Grantaire laughed. “You are so weird and that is so gross,” he said, but he relaxed and he picked Enjolras’ hand up to kiss his knuckles. “Sometimes I’m worried, you know, that I’m not--”

Enjolras had to cut him off at that. “No, R, we’ve been through this before. We don’t rank people according to some socially constructed b.s. and if anything, I am the lucky one here.”

“You just contradicted yourself there, Apollo--” Grantaire replied with a smile. “--but thank you. We can both be lucky.”

Enjolras parked the car, unbuckled his seatbelt and threw himself on Grantaire. Their kisses were familiar now, they had every push and pull perfected. Grantaire let out a surprised “oomf” from a sudden onslaught of Enjolras’ person. They were usually much more discreet in public after a few pictures of their first kiss behind a club nearly derailed Enjolras’ first campaign.

Grantaire had always been powerless against Enjolras, though. He yielded immediately and parted his lips to grant Enjolras better access. He winded his hands up behind Enjolras’ neck to deepen the kiss, licking into his mouth. Before Enjolras decided to turn the car around and go back to their bed, he disentangled them inch by inch.

Grantaire looked up at him. “What’s gotten into you? What did you do? Oh God, is it my birthday?”

“No, I just, appreciate you being here, alright? It was never fun for either of us dealing with the attention, but you are really here just for me, so.”

Grantaire’s eyes softened. “There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you.”

_9:30 a.m._

Enjolras finished his short speech to roaring applause and moved over to his and Grantaire’s designated wall and received a gentle squeeze on his shoulder from his partner.

“Very good babe, I really like the part about the freedom to create a mess. I do have notes on perfecting one’s crafts though,” he said.

Enjolras snickered, “I would expect nothing less. So, what are we doing?”

“We? Really?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, “Fine, what are you doing and how can I help? You are supposed to take it easy on your ankle too. It isn’t fully healed yet and Joly will have my head if I let you stand here all morning.”

“That’s more like it,” Grantaire said. “For that, we can do a cartoon of Libby in the woods with a speech bubble. Do you think you can manage some maple leaves if I outline the trees and the hills for you?”

Enjolras knew Grantaire was joking, but his own painting ability really did not extend beyond protest signs, so he paid special attention to the work in front of him. He was so invested in the task at hand, so he didn’t notice Grantaire edging closer and closer until a tip of a wet paintbrush was pressed onto his cheek.

“Hey!”

Grantaire giggled. “I’m sorry! You just looked so serious I had to,” he said, painting three quick lines on each side of Enjolras’ nose. “Now you are Grumpy Cat!”

“Oh, you are on,” Enjolras said, launching himself onto Grantaire and ran his paint-covered palm on top of Grantaire’s head and ruffled his hair. Unlike Grantaire, Enjolras was not an asshole and didn’t go for his face.

“My hair! My beautiful hair!” Grantaire yelped, trying to get away from Enjolras. “Alright, I yield! I yield! It’s a war crime to keep going.”

“You started it!”

“Irrelevant. What have you been working on that required so much attention anyway? Shouldn’t all your attention be on me when you are not at work? I vaguely remember a promise on--” Then he saw what Enjolras had been doing. “ _Oh_ Enjolras”

Enjolras rubbed his neck a little self-consciously. He was hoping Grantaire wouldn’t notice the little heart he had drawn on one of Grantaire’s tree trunks so it looked like someone had carved E+R onto it.

“We can paint over it if it doesn’t look right you know...but I just wanted it to…”

Grantaire wrapped his arms around Enjolras’ waist and kissed his shoulder instead. “No one is ever going to paint over that. I love it. Look at it, your brushstrokes are so shaky it looks like a real wood carved heart done by a deranged fourteen-year-old.”

“Oh fuck off,” Enjolras said, placing his whole palm on Grantaire’s face to push him away. Grantaire shrieked but he went to finish their wall willingly. Enjolras took a few pictures of it on his phone and set it as his wallpaper before they went to change in the center’s bathroom for Enjolras’ lunch meeting with the farmers’ union.

_1:30 p.m._

They made it to the expansive co-op restaurant and bakery in no time. Enjolras looked around. This place was one of his proudest projects as the governor. The co-op meant that the staff were a part of the decision process from how the place should be run to how the profits would be shared. Enjolras hoped to make the co-op a main business model in the state. Grantaire, on the seat opposite, rolled his eyes and handed him the menu.

“Stop it with the proud papa face, the staff are going to swoon.”

Enjolras took the menu, but he paused. “We shouldn’t order before the union gets here. It’s a bit rude, no?”

“Oh, about that,” Grantaire began. “Courfeyrac called yesterday and said they asked to move the meeting to next week and they wouldn’t mind sharing a slot with the teacher’s union since they pretty much have the same agenda and I know you haven’t had a proper lunch in months and I _know_ you would just try to schedule something else if you heard about the cancellation so I thought...better to ask for forgiveness than permission?”

Enjolras felt a rush of gratitude all over. Being with Grantaire had never been smooth sailing. They met at a stressful time when Enjolras was making a bid for the highest office in their state and Grantaire’s firm first received a big contract. They were two very different people and they still clashed periodically. Grantaire had his feet firmly planted to the present while Enjolras shot for the moon. Grantaire could be reckless while Enjolras had always been meticulous about his choices and their repercussions. But he wouldn’t trade what they had for the world. They loved each other fiercely and completely. Enjolras’ love language might come in the form of his soft alarm and Grantaire’s morning coffee. Grantaire showed his affection in the way he prodded until Enjolras gave up and went to bed at a reasonable hour, the way he bought all the migraine remedies in the world so that Enjolras’ pain wouldn’t be debilitating. And yes, that occasionally included manipulating some information so that Enjolras could have a proper meal.

Enjolras reached for his hands. Grantaire’s lack of eye contact betrayed his seemingly nonchalant statement. “Thank you. You have my permission to do this once in a while when you think I am going to collapse, but don’t make a habit of this, promise?”

Grantaire beamed. He nodded enthusiastically and started pointing out seasonal items on the menu. Enjolras watched him and let him order whatever he wanted. Grantaire had always cared about food more than Enjolras ever did. He ordered the best dishes every time anyway.

They lingered at the co-op for way longer than usual, gorging themselves in mountains of cookies and cupcakes until they nearly had to roll each other out of the place. It was nearly three o’clock when they finally made it out to their car.

“You know, we don’t have anything until the donors’ reception at six at the Musain. We could do a small hike and come back? Go to the creek to see if the leaves have changed color?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire feigned outrage. “A walk? Without Libby? She would never forgive us. How could you even suggest that?”

“You take her on a walk during your lunch break all the time!”

“Aww are we jealous of a dog now, Enjolras? Unbelievable.”

It was only slightly true. Grantaire, who was technically his own boss, took Libby into work with him every day. It didn’t help that both Jehan and Feuilly both spoiled Libby rotten as well. Enjolras was forever the bad cop in their household. “I am not. But you two do spend time together a lot more than I do. Okay yes, I heard that too. That sounded bad, don’t comment on it.” He hailed a finger up to stop Grantaire’s certain retort. “Libby is with Jehan doing God knows what and we only have maybe an hour on the trail, we can just take an easy walk and make out when no one’s around.”

Grantaire laughed. Bright and unrestrained. “Should have led with that. Let’s go!”

They spent their afternoon walking and reminiscing about their last two years together, their hopes and dreams for the future, and their plans for the next months. It was achingly lovely to hear that all their plans include one another. Ten days or ten years.

_5 p.m._

Grantaire threw the Musain’s door open and immediately started screaming for Eponine.

“What the hell? The venue has to be ready for a hundred guests in an hour! Where is everyone?” he frantically complained to Enjolras. “They haven’t even hung your banner! That’s the least they could do! And she is not answering my phone. Great.”

“It’s fine, we can start hanging things. Just the tablecloths and banners anyway, right? I’m sure everyone is on their way here.” Enjolras replied.

Grantaire muttered a few carefully chosen curses under his breath and went behind the bar to grab their boxes of supplies. Enjolras helped him out and grabbed the banner while Grantaire busied himself with setting tables.

“R, is the banner straight?”

Grantaire barely looked up from his table. “Yeah, looks fine.”

“You are not even looking! Can you please just check now? Is the message okay?” Enjolras repeated exasperatedly.

“Fine, yes, of course, it is okay. Isn’t it the same banner we’ve used a million times?”

“Is it?”

“Well, yes? it’s always said ‘would you marry--” Grantaire dropped his tablecloth and looked at Enjolras, who was now kneeling in front of him.

Enjolras took a deep breath. He’d got this. He’d rehearsed it. He would not cry.

“Grantaire, being who I am, you know I over-thought this. Being able to sign that one piece of paper alone was a hard-won right and I would never have proposed had I not known for sure, for a while now, that you are the only one for me. And you will make fun of me for this, but I truly, really believe Justice Kennedy when he said:

‘No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family. In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were.’

“You made me better than I once was. In every sense of the word. I had learned to be more patient, to open my life to new experiences, and to worship the small gods. I am all yours, body and soul, in life and in death, and I want the whole world to know that. Would you marry me?”

Grantaire was nodding frantically through his tears. He threw himself onto Enjolras, clutching his shoulders and they laughed through tears when Enjolras put the plain platinum ring on his finger. The inside was inscribed with a small heart with their initials in it.

Grantaire placed reverent kisses all over Enjolras’ face, one on each of his eyebrows, one on his forehead, and he ended it with a lingering one full on his lips. Finally, he seemed to recover his power of speech.

“This isn’t about the time you couldn’t see me right after I tore my Achilles tendon because you aren’t family, right?”

Enjolras groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

“Hey, assholes, it’s freezing out here. Can we come in yet or are you two having post-engagement sex?” Eponine shouted from the outside.

“Can we elope? We need new friends, possibly new identities,” Grantaire said, moving less than an inch away from Enjolras to say it.

“Anything. For you. Anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- I stole the “good boy respects women” drawing from Henry Garret’s wonderful book, [_This Book Will Make You Kinder_](https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/634637/this-book-will-make-you-kinder-by-henry-james-garrett/). It makes a great gift!  
> \- Justice Kennedy was the swing vote in Obergefell v. Hodge, a ruling that legalized same-sex marriage in the U.S. and his statement on marriage equality is a powerful one. To this day I still tear up a bit whenever it comes up:  
>   
> \- The dog on the right is Libby. I do not accept alternative casting. 
> 
> -Comments/kudos are very appreciated! I also have a [tumblr](https://themandilorian.tumblr.com/). Please come talk to me about Les Mis and Madeline Miller. I have feelings.


End file.
